Christmas Couples
by FyoraHime
Summary: Some Christmas one-shots featuring various Pokemon couples! All of these couples were recently married or engaged, and they're preparing for their first Christmases together! I hope you enjoy them! Features Amourshipping, Contestshipping, Ferriswheelshipping, and Ikarishipping. :)
1. Amourshipping

Lying out in the open, completely exposed and vulnerable, it seemed to be beckoning him. Certainly, if its contents were supposed to be secret, then higher security would be present. Could anyone truly be upset with him if he swiped it really swiftly, did his business, and returned it in the blink of an eye?

"Ash, you can't lick that!"

Startled, the boy from Pallet Town dropped the spoon immediately. It fell with a clatter onto the countertop, and cookie dough splattered around the nearby area. As footsteps came closer and closer to him, he braced himself to face his ultimate weakness. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, but opened them again once he felt a soft, warm hand rest on top of his. A soft, warm, sticky hand. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking straight into Serena's eyes. She seemed surprised by his direct gaze, however, and shades of pink and red blossomed onto her blushing face. The amount of effort required to continue staring right at her was daunting, but he persevered; female emotions always caused him trouble.

He spoke first. "I thought it was okay for me to lick the spoon."

She chuckled softly, raising her other hand to brush her golden bangs out of her face. That hand looked pretty sticky, too. "Normally, yes. When it's just us two, you can always lick the spoon. I don't mind your germs." A fuzzy feeling welled up in his stomach when she said this, because he could feel her body heat rising. Why was this so embarrassing? Her flustered feelings were almost contagious; he felt himself blushing, too, as she grew redder.

"Wait… are you saying that these cookies are for someone else?" Disappointment washed over him, and his eyes lowered to the abandoned spoon. "Is your mom coming to visit? Does she mind when I taste-test your cookies?"

Serena rapidly shook her head, and she grabbed his hand with both of hers. "No, that's not the case at all! I mean, she is coming over for Christmas tomorrow, but that's not the point." She seemed desperate to reassure him that Grace wasn't an issue; the Rhyhorn racer hadn't been thrilled at the news of their engagement, so Serena was always working hard to maintain the peace. "It's just that… these cookies are for Santa."

Ash's eyes grew wide, and he leaped away from the kitchen. Serena let go of his hands in a panic, completely caught off-guard by his sudden movements. "Oh no! I had no idea!" He raised his hands to the side of his head, grabbing his hair in terror. "Honestly, Santa! I had no clue!" The young man clasped his hands together as he began to beg. "Please don't give me coal! I've been so good this year!" He then began to whisper "please" repeatedly, gripping his hands tighter with every repetition of the word.

Serena hurried to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe her troubled fiancée. He noticed once again that her hand was sticky with cookie dough. "I wouldn't worry. Santa knows you wouldn't deliberately contaminate his cookies. If anyone knows how great you are, it's him. He's always watching, after all."

The dark-haired boy seemed to be more at ease after hearing her comforting words. If his lovely fiancée, the sweet-as-sugar Serena, said that he was a good person, then those words had to be true. "If you say so," he murmured. "By the way… the batter is really good."

She smiled at him, laughing softly. "Don't worry. I promise that we will have extra cookies just for you, dear."


	2. Contestshipping

"Can I look yet?"

A salty tang assaulted his nose as he felt sharp breezes throw his hair in multiple directions. He could taste the saline flavor of the air on his tongue, and trekking across the soft, unstable ground became more difficult with every step. Four out of five of Drew's senses were under attack; only his sight remained at peace, but only because May had insisted that he cover his eyes while en route to their destination. _"A blindfold? Really?"_ he had asked her _. "What are you planning?"_

One grueling, ten-minute walk later, they arrived in this peculiar, still unknown, location.

"Okay, okay! You can take it off now!" May announced, and the weight of her hands lifted from his shoulders. At least she had guided him effectively, ensuring that he didn't hurt himself right before Christmas.

With a (somewhat exasperated) sigh of relief, Drew untied the blindfold. The brilliant illumination of the sun forced him to shield his eyes for a moment, and he blinked a few times to adjust to the light. Finally he took in his surroundings: sun, sand, and sea. "You took me to the beach?" he said, admittedly surprised. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this.

"Yep!" May either hadn't noticed his bewildered, skeptical tone, or she was choosing to ignore it. "Unfortunately, this winter has been really warm all across Hoenn. Slateport rarely gets snow anyway, but this year was especially bizarre for weather." She closed her eyes and turned towards the wind, allowing it to tickle her nose and to dance with her soft brown hair. "My family has a tradition of working together on a Christmas Eve snowman. Even if Dad was at work or if Max and I were traveling, everyone else would work together to make a snowman and take pictures for the rest of us to see." Suddenly she whirled to face him with eyes sparkling and hands clasped together in excitement. "I may not be home in Petalburg, but… you're family now, Drew." Those words made her face turned red for a moment, but she continued speaking anyway. "I couldn't let the tradition die! I was lamenting the horrible weather when I came up with an amazing idea! Our apartment is ridiculously close to the beach, so although we may not be able to make a snowman, we can still make a sandman!"

Her cheerful attitude and huge grin were basically contagious. Drew couldn't help but chuckle when he saw the exuberance and life that radiated from his lover. If keeping up this cheesy tradition made her happy, then he would participate with an open mind and an open heart. After all, as she had stated… they were married now, so they were family. He closed his eyes for a moment as well, allowing the beach air to soak into him. Suddenly, he didn't feel as if the surf and sand were assaulting his senses; rather, they seemed to be serenading him. The rhythmic lull of the waves, the malleable sand that shifted to accommodate his steps, and the sweet sunshine that balanced out the frosty gales all cooperated to beckon him, to soothe him, to keep him here.

"Drew?"

He opened his eyes. May was eyeing him curiously, probably awaiting some sort of response. She seemed just about ready to throw off her shoes and run into the sand, but she was probably waiting for some sort of cue.

"If you gather some shells for his eyes and nose, then I can probably find some seaweed for his mouth," he declared at last. Without giving him a chance to react, May grabbed his wrist and began to eagerly drag him along the beach.

"We can search together," she told him, still smiling widely. "When we're done, you'd better believe that I'm taking pictures! It'll be a wonderful addition to the Hayden Expeditions!"


	3. Ferriswheelshipping

A slow creaking of the door. A nervous, sharp inhalation. Timid, hesitant footsteps.

Hilda knew that her husband was entering the room far before he ever said anything to her, but she decided to keep quiet in order to avoid upsetting him. Judging from the cautious way that he was approaching her, he clearly was uncomfortable about whatever he wanted to discuss.

"Hilda?" he whispered as he came up behind her. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, too.

Taking a deep breath, the brunette turned her head to face him. She found herself staring at his knees, and she had to lift her head to see his face. Sometimes she forgot just how tall N was, but whenever she was sitting down and he was towering over her, she quickly remembered. Hilda got up onto her feet in order to close the height gap a little. "Yes, N?" she asked calmly.

"I…" He trailed off and began to fiddle with his bracelets. "It's a common human tradition to purchase a tree for the winter holidays, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes, Christmas trees are traditional. Why do you ask?"  
"Why don't we own one?"

This was a perfectly valid question, but Hilda actually hadn't expected him to ask. She wanted a tree, of course; she grew up with the custom of having a tree every year, and she relished the scent of pine filling her home during the holiday season. The primary reason that she hadn't searched for one this year was for N's sake.

"Do you want one?" she asked simply. He nodded. "Even if that means cutting a tree down so we can bring it home?" He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded again. This caught her off guard; she had assumed that he would be against having a Christmas tree because he would want to preserve the tree's life. Honestly, she had expected some sort of lecture about ruining a Pokemon's natural habitat or something similar.

"I wish the process was… different," he confessed. He dropped his hands and shifted his gaze to meet hers. "I want a tree, though. I want to change. This is an important step for the new me, in this new home, on our very first Christmas together."

His determination was inspiring; he always shone with such a dazzling light, the light of purity and truth. She could tell that he was serious about this, even though he seemed slightly pained by the whole ordeal. Was this too much for him? Was he overexerting himself by going against his principles? "You know that I love you," she stated bluntly, and his face turned crimson. "You don't have to change. I love you for who you are." Now she could feel her own cheeks beginning to radiate heat. "Besides…" A mischievous glimmer sparkled in her eyes. "We could just use you as a tree. If you pull your hair back, and we put a star on your head—"

" _That is never going to happen."_


	4. Ikarishipping

Ties are the enemy of mankind.

Paul couldn't get this thought out of his head as he struggled to tie his tie, his impatience and anger with the silly accessory growing by the second. "Dawn, how fancy is this place?" he called to his wife, who was fixing her makeup in the bathroom. "Would a tie be overkill?" His fashion-savvy partner always knew what the proper dress code was for just about any event; her experience as a designer certainly came in handy sometimes.

She finally emerged from the other room, rubbing her lips together. When she saw Paul wrestling with his tie, she raised both hands to her face. He knew this meant that she was trying to cover up a laugh, but she was doing a pretty poor job. "Yeah, I'm pathetic. I know." He rolled his eyes, but his contempt was directed at himself rather than at the blue-haired beauty.

"Let me teach you, hon," she said with a smile, still barely suppressing her giggles. She walked up beside him and took hold of his hands, moving them in a way so that he could easily watch her in the mirror in front of them. "You take this part like this," she instructed, guiding his motions carefully. "There you go! No need to worry, right?" She grinned at him. "To be honest, the tie was optional, but I like it." He groaned very loudly. "Oh, come on. You wouldn't have let the night end without defeating this vicious nemesis of yours anyway," she pointed out.

"Fair enough," he conceded with a grunt as he brushed off his slacks. "Now then, what time is our reservation?"

"6:00," Dawn chirped as she began to rummage around in her purse. "We should probably leave in ten minutes if we want to be on time." Her eyes lit up suddenly, and Paul raised an eyebrow. "First, however…" She whipped out her phone. "Christmas is technically in two weeks, but can we still call this a holiday selfie?"

Paul shrugged. "Sure. Whatever makes you happy." He knew how excited she got when it came to documenting any type of formal event; not only would the pictures they serve as cheesy keepsakes, but their current outfits could also inspire her future works. Plus, she kept these photos private; only her actual designs saw the light of day, and only her final creations ever received an audience greater than her immediate coworkers.

"Smile for the camera!" She pressed her face close to his and extended her arm. "3, 2, 1…." A soft click sounded, and then she stepped to the side to give him some breathing room. "Excellent! One for my portfolio," she started, inching towards the door with every word. "One for the Christmas card!"

Christmas card? The blood rushed from Paul's face. "You planned this." He would have never agreed to dress up if he knew that she was going to broadcast the evidence to all of their friends and family! He absolutely detested pictures, and he only ever agreed to them because he knew they were _private_ photos that aided Dawn with her work. She had already rushed out of the room to upload the pictures onto their computer, and Paul collapsed into the nearest chair with a sigh.

So this is what betrayal felt like.


End file.
